Never Too Late
by rainsrabble
Summary: A down and dirty secret always comes to light eventually


Authors Note:

This was an old exchange fic I wrote way back in 2011. I vaguely recall that the challenge requested out of the box Malfoy. Anyhow, I wanted to post it here as I am wanting to gather all my fiction together in one place.

 **Never too late**

Hermione wasn't very good at girly. She did however have a soft spot for Ginny Weasley so she found herself chaperoning a group of silly drunk ladies at her friends' bachelorette party. First to the pubs, then to the clubs, till finally the limo dropped them off at Ginnys' flat where the girls decided they needed even more alcohol and poured cocktails. Hermione tried to protest that she didn't want one but Ginny insisted. "We're home now Hermione, you don't have to chaperone anymore." The slur to her voice was endearing and sweet so Hermione accepted the drink and took a small sip to pacify her.

Thus ensued the giggly girly talk that always made her feel so awkward and out of place. She didn't like gossip, considered it crass. She didn't like to share her feelings or her secrets. She was a very composed, contained person. Usually this was a matter of great pride to her, but sitting around with these girls it made her feel like a potions experiment. As was usually the case the talk quickly spiraled to love, to which Hermione had no experience. Then to relationships, to which Hermione had very little experience. And finally sex, to which Hermione didn't want to discuss the experience she had with anyone…thank you very much.

She sat in the reclining chair slightly away from the pile of girls grouped on the couch and the floor and tried to avoid notice. The topic became most risqué sexual encounter and Hermione blushed to hear them tell all with no regard to decency or propriety whatsoever. She was deeply grateful that they had forgotten her and relieved enough to even take a second sip of her cocktail while Ginny regaled the group with her and Harry's exploits upon broomstick. Harry would be just as horrified as she was; these girls had no concept of what should be kept private.

She knew it was going to happen, a second before it did. She'd been expecting it really. Pansy had been fairly benign the entire evening. But Hermione wasn't fooled. Parkinson was a malicious creature who preyed on the misfortune and misery of others. She didn't know what Ginny saw in her. She had been anxious, on edge, just waiting for Pansy to turn on her all evening. When her perfectly manicured blond head swiveled in Hermione's direction, eyes narrowed just a fraction, Hermione knew something sweet would come spewing out of that mean mouth, thinly veiling the malicious intent behind her words.

"What about you Hermione? What devilish acts have you been up to with your boyfriend?" The good-natured laughter that had filled the room sputtered and died abruptly. Pansy could pretend that she didn't know Hermione well enough to know that there had been no boyfriend in some time, but Hermione knew that Pansy knew she was single. There was no bit of social gossip that escaped that social piranha, and her continued spinsterhood since her brief romance with Ron was often spoken about in hushed whispers. There was a beat of uncertain silence while the girls tried to figure out whether it would be appropriate to correct Pansy, or to change the subject. She could see them floundering, trying to decide how to save her. Hermione decided she didn't need saving.

"I'm not the type to kiss and tell." She replied calmly, taking another sip of her drink.

Pansy turned completely to face her, giving Hermione her full attention as if she was fascinated by whatever it was she was to say next. "Oh come now, surely an overachiever such as you must have some tasty morsel you could share with us. Surely you are as accomplished at romance as you are at everything else." She gave a slow Cheshire smile. Hermione could feel her face flaming with embarrassment. Everyone knew that Hermione's weak spot was her social graces. Pansy might not be as accomplished intellectually but she never passed up an opportunity to point out that she was none the less better. She was wealthier, more popular, loved and adored by many. Hermione was an ugly duckling that had never bloomed into a swan and she hated the way Pansy made her feel.

"That's enough Pansy." Ginny decided it best to attempt a rescue after all. It worked because Pansy turned away. Of course, she did have to get in a parting shot.

"I don't know why you invited her Ginerva, she's such a prude. She's done nothing but frown all night. I bet she's never had a down and dirty moment of fun in her life."

Ginny tried to defend her. "Oh, Hermione's not a prude Pansy. She's just shy." She smiled over at her, a drunken tilt to her grin and Hermione had to get out of there. She knew she ought to stick it out. Running out let Pansy win, but suddenly she couldn't bear to stay another second. She said her goodbye's hastily and rushed out the door. She made it three steps down the hall before her breathing became so erratic she had to stop and lean against the wall. She pressed a hand to her chest and closed her eyes trying to will the images in her head away.

The truth was that Hermione did have a dirty little secret. Pansy had inadvertently brought it to the fore of her mind and she couldn't look at those girls while the truth swirled behind her eyes. Down and dirty moment of fun indeed…

 _Seventh year for them had been strange. Attending with Ginny Weasley and her class had been awkward and unsettling. The teachers had been outright uncomfortable with any form of discipline. It had been worse for Malfoy though. He and his friends had been on the wrong side of the war and for the first time he knew what it felt like to shunned and disliked. Ronald thought it was funny and that it served him right. Harry and Hermione were of a different opinion however. They knew what it was like to face opposition alone and hold your head up high when everyone thought it ought to droop in shame. So they alone kept silent. Hermione often found herself paired with him because no one else would work with him and no one would expect the burden to fall on poor Harry._

So it wasn't unusual that the two of them should be alone in the dungeon potions classroom finishing up on a tricky potion for extra credit. Harry had just left not five minutes before and Slughorn had been quick to trust them with the locking up so he could dart after the local hero. Everything would have been fine if Peeves hadn't popped in and dropped a load of pottery behind her. Still skittish from her ordeal at Harry's side and the bloody battle that had followed Hermione spun around, wand at the ready, and her elbow brought the beaker they had been working on crashing behind them.

Again everything would have been fine if the potion had been finished…it was supposed to be a luck potion. But in its unfinished form it was an unknown. She should have known better than to kneel with Malfoy on the floor to pick up the glass…

When the fumes hit her she turned to look at him, just as he was turning to her, and the hungry look on his face was the sexiest thing she'd ever laid eyes on. She still had enough presence of mind to come to her feet, to back away slowly, but Draco had already been ensnared. He prowled after her and when his hand, coated in sticky potion, came up and touched her face she lost herself to a fog of heat and lust that she would have never believed possible.

He had tasted like strawberry mint ice cream and his hair was soft as silk under her hands as she held on for dear life. She'd lost her virginity against a hard stone wall in a cold potions classroom and it had been amazing. Somehow he'd had the presence of mind to move their location and she'd ended up spending several hours, more or less eight, wrapped up in a shameless tangle of limbs and tongues and touches that had felt so hot she should have burst into flames.

After the effects of the spell fizzled out in the wee hours of the morning Hermione had further shamed herself by collapsing in an exhausted heap and spending the following ten hours twined up in his arms. But the absolute worst part of the whole thing was that three years later just the thought of those lust filled hours could have her pressed up against a wall in the middle of the night, waving air on her flushed face, pressing her damp thighs together. The memories were so vivid and overwhelming that she could almost taste mint on her tongue. Pansy had no idea about dirty little secrets. No idea whatsoever.

* * *

Draco Malfoy found it odd to be back in Diagon Alley. Not because it wasn't familiar, because it was. It was because what had once seemed such a big busy place now seemed small and quaint. Magical displays that had once amazed and dazzled him now seemed sweet little trinkets. The cute cobblestone streets seemed cramped and winding. That was what three years in New York did to a Wizard. It changed your perspective, widened your horizons. Being back on his home turf didn't change him back to who he used to be. His experiences had changed him on a fundamental level and he was okay with that. He'd loved everything about America. He'd loved the anonymousness of it. He'd loved the casualness of human relationships there. He'd loved the freedom from his responsibilities.

He had known he wasn't really free though. Not like the carefree students at Cambridge School of Mediwitches and Wizards that he had gone drinking with. He'd known when his schooling was over he would return home and reassume his responsibilities, his identity. Who he was weighed heavily on him here. The Malfoy heir. Heir to dark magic. Heir to a dark family stain. Healing his family reputation would not be easy. It had started with Narcissa choosing to help Potter, albeit for selfish reasons. Potter had nobly included her as a heroine in his story, he was obnoxiously righteous that way. So the blot was watered down, grayed out, but still dirty on his name. He'd continued the cleansing by going away, going to medical school. Leaving his mother to do her charity work and sow the seeds of wealth and power in his absence, give the community time to simmer down and cool. His father also blessedly absent having gone into hiding immediately to avoid arrest and as a dual purpose taking the brunt of the stain onto his own name.

It was time for him to be home though. He would do his internship at St. Mungos, give him a valid reason to be home. He could begin to reassert his presence gradually, gain influence subtly, through the subterfuge of healing. He would see the powerful at their most vulnerable, when they had need of help. The hospital was a breeding ground for power. St. Mungos had other attractions as well. Hermione Granger worked at the hospital in research.

He'd once spent the majority of a day and night wrapped up in a lust spell and the aftermath with Hermione Granger. Prior to that experience he'd found her superior attitude infuriating and difficult to pierce. Nothing had induced him to rage so much as watching that slip of a girl gallivanting around Hogwarts usurping his place and position. He'd resented her with a passion. Then he'd learned what passion really was in her arms.

That experience had been enlightening on every level.

Physically it was a revelation that still stirred his lust with a simple thought of it. He hadn't realized how immersive sex could be. He hadn't known how completely one could lose themselves in previously un-experienced heights of pleasure. Emotionally it was a surprise that a relationship could be so much more than hurried sex in the cramped quarters of Hogwarts. He'd felt connected and close to her in a way he hadn't believed real. The essence of stories and songs had come home for him in the guise of one slim girl. He'd been overwhelmed by the fantasy of what it would be like to keep her. He'd been convinced she knew what love was and could teach it to him.

Strategically he'd been staggered. Like a blow from a bludger in the back of the head. He'd felt dazed as he lay with her in the dark while she'd slept exhausted in his arms. A whole new world of possibility had opened up to him. What if she wasn't his foe, but his lover? What if she wasn't his downfall, but his advantage? Granger was a powerful ally, a perfect partner. He didn't even know why he hadn't thought of it before; probably because she was so out of reach that he had never seriously contemplated pursuing her. It was one thing to notice that last years' jumper hugged her breasts in a pleasing way. It was another thing to consider actually dating her. The concept was foreign and previously unexplored. Except, she had fallen into his arms, she had been snug against his side.

Draco had then made his first disastrous mistake. He'd closed his eyes and given in to weariness. He'd drifted off into slumber planning what he'd say to her in the morning. Of course she hadn't been there when he woke. He should have set a ward to wake him when she woke, but he'd been tired and not thinking straight. He had still felt good about the situation though. He'd taken a shower, gotten cleaned up, before seeking her out. Then he'd made his next disastrous mistake. He'd taken it personally when she'd avoided him. She was as elusive as smoke on the wind. If he hadn't been so furious and frustrated by his inability to corner her he would have admired how very Slytherin her evasion was. After a week of disappointment he had given up trying to get her alone and returned her coldness with everything within him. It was childish and foolish and shortsighted. Before he could correct his mistakes he'd gone off to America at his mother's bidding, grateful for a chance to nurse his pride.

Despite his belief to the contrary Draco hadn't known that much about women. He'd had a few inexperienced girlfriends, with the most serious being Pansy and the height of intimacy groping her in an unused classroom. He hadn't known that Hermione was probably just as uncertain as he was, just as fearful of rejection. He hadn't known how upset she would be at herself. How important control over the physical was to her. He hadn't known really how to pursue her or what to say. He didn't know how to deal with a girl who wasn't grateful for his attention.

Fortunately he'd learned a lot more in New York than medicine.

So here he was in Diagon Alley. He was here to answer a question in his mind. Everything here seemed different, colored with the truth of his broader experience. He saw the world differently now. The lust from that unknown potion had faded over three years ago. But the obsession, the fixation on Hermione Granger, burned on. So was this fascination all in his head? Would he see her differently now that he was older and wiser? He'd been with other girls now, experienced other pleasures. Would she hold the same sway over him as before? Was she still special?

Finally she emerged from the dress shop, her arm linked with her redheaded friend. He'd been told that the girls would be here today, shopping for the upcoming Weasley wedding. Even across the street with her head down, her form was unmistakable. He had watched her so often and so closely that he recognized the sway of her step. His pulse quickened as she crossed the cobblestone way towards him, anticipation spiking in preparation of the moment she would notice him standing in front of The Three Broomsticks. This was it; this was the moment he'd been waiting three years for. She looked up, saw him.

Recognition was instant, the stumble in her step satisfying. A quiet gasp from rosebud lips alerted her friend to his presence and she too was properly shocked to see him; A ghost from their past. She was indeed different. The frizz in her hair had been banished with a skillful layered haircut. Her pretty eyes emphasized with a touch of mascara and her full lips skimmed with a shimmer of gloss. Her frumpy school robes replaced with a modest muggle business suit. However a layer of sophistication didn't change her wide eyed innocence, her expressive face. She quickly recovered, snapped her mouth shut, and elbowed her friend when the Weasley shouted his name with all the couth of a badger. Time hadn't eroded her unflappable calm, her quiet composure.

She was like a swift kick in the gut.

He took a deep breath and gave both girls his most charming smile. At his father's knee he'd learned to put people on edge, make them nervous. Overseas he'd learned the opposite, how to put people at ease. He found it a valuable skill and enjoyed the uncertainty that flickered across her expression. The only question that had been answered was that she still affected him. He wouldn't know how deeply until this thing had sputtered out. He was no longer a child, and he wouldn't be running this time. He'd see it through. He tilted his head to them, eyes staying on Granger. "Ladies," he said even as he stepped past them into the crowd. No need to rush, he had nothing but time.

Game on Granger.


End file.
